


Hold On To The Night

by d3bonair (zmalikd)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zmalikd/pseuds/d3bonair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His body aches, his limbs are tight and he wants to run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On To The Night

The preserve stretches out for what feels like an eternity, and Isaac looms just under the moon, his yellowed eyes scanning the trees. His body aches and his limbs are tight. He wants to run, and not just a petty lap around the lake, but truly  _run_. Stretching his neck, he feels the brush of fangs against his lips, the tingle in his fingertips that tells him his claws are growing. His chest tightens, his ears elongating. Closing his eyes, he pictures the trail of the forest, the way the trees tilt with age and how they seem to dance when a soft wind blows.

There’s a screech just off North that has Isaac’s ears perking up. He knows that sound, knows that it belongs to a bat who has just woken for its nightly flight. The sound is awful to his senses, but Isaac smiles nonetheless. He knows how good it feels to bathe in the night sky, to see the stars.

Touching the earth with just the tips of his claws, he throws his head back and howls. His throat vibrates soothingly, his body filling with authority that he normally doesn’t get to experience when Derek is around. He may be a beta, trapped between the qualms of a broken pack, but tonight he’s free.

Tonight he belongs to the moon.

He kicks off, sending clumps of dead leaves flying. The wind whips through him, painting his skin with the savory scent of fresh life. He inhales deeply as he passes the lake, smelling the stench of fish and wet earth. He wants to pounce on the boulders that frame the body of water, but knows Derek will throw a fit if he comes home tracking mud on his boots. Steering clear, Isaac follows his nose towards the city. He knows if he continues West, he’ll be spat out right on the preserve’s edge, where he’ll be able to watch the nightlife of Beacon Hills. And he also knows if he turns around and heads South, he’ll find himself on the porch steps of the Hale house.

He grits his teeth, his fangs digging into the tender skin of his mouth. Shaking his head once, as if to rid his mind of a bad memory, Isaac tells himself to keep West, to not follow the trail of his Alpha and their pack’s newest member. A snarl erupts from his throat as his feet twist and slide across the dirt and its small patches of green.

Running, Isaac thinks, is much like breathing. There’s times when he truly believes he may die if he isn’t allowed a chance to stretch his legs, and he’s sure he isn’t the only one who feels this way. There are times when Derek leaves in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a torn t-shirt. He always goes quietly, avoiding any and all confrontation from his pack. Peter will sometimes exchange glances with Isaac, rolling his eyes before dropping off of the back porch and into the woods to continue his practice. Leaving the young beta to stand confused and alone, digging his heels into the burnt floorboards and pulling at loose threads on his jeans.

Isaac’s throat burns, the cold night air striking and rubbing it raw. He snarls, twisting his head until his chin rests against his chest, and hides his face from the harsh wind. His mind won’t stop reeling with images of both Peter and Derek. There’s a whine working its way across his tongue, but he rushes it quickly. Digging his claws into the earth beneath him, Isaac comes to a halt. He looks to the moon, his eyes transfixed. It’s then that he hears the faint rumble of someone’s harsh breathing, the thud of their heart. It beats too fast to be human; too loudly to be anyone other than Derek. Isaac knows his beat, knows the way it sounds when the alpha’s angry, or tired. On one too many occasions, Isaac’s found himself being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic beating. He’d never admit it out loud, but the sound is the only thing that he can find comfort in anymore.

But not now. If that’s Derek’s heart, then that means he’s coming for him. Most likely to rip him into pieces for taking off. Technically, Isaac knows he  _shouldn’t_ be out in the preserve, away from the house, because of the new pack. They have yet to show themselves, and all the others can do is wait. Derek had said not to leave, yet Isaac still had, and the fear that fills his mouth now, causing his chest to constrict and his stomach to cramp, tells him that he shouldn’t have done that.

He swallows back the feeling, turns and faces West, and with a swift kick off, he flies through the woods. His feet pound across the earth, his nails collecting dirt, his senses filling with it. Derek’s closer now. Isaac can catch his scent and it makes his skin ripple with gooseflesh, the small hairs along his body standing on end.

He tips his face to the sky, sniffs. He’s upwind and there’s only the faintest scent of his pack. He can smell both Erica and Boyd through the trees, and his heart jumps at the thought of the two who left them. Tucking his emotions deep within himself, Isaac sprints.

Derek’s close behind, he can practically feel the alpha’s powerful feet thudding against the forest ground. His heartbeat quickens, his jaw snaps shut, his eyes slitting. The world’s tinted a bright red and he knows he’s close to the edge. The natural scent of human blood fills his senses as he leaps over a boulder, losing his footing just barely. His wrist twists, sending sparks of pain up his arm and to his shoulder. Growling, he snaps it back into place and is suddenly washed over with fear.

Pain has always been Isaac’s downfall. No matter how many times Derek tells him it’s what brings him back, what makes his human stronger than the wolf within his skin, he refuses to believe it. With pain comes memories, and with those, his father. He wasn’t always that way, though, and Isaac tries desperately to hold onto those memories. The happy ones that existed before Camden had died, and the ones before those, when his mother was still alive. His father had loved him then, he had taken care of him.

Tears begin to well in his eyes, the red starts to fade, and he knows his wolf is no longer holding on. His shoulders grow heavy and his back aches from the run. Coming to a complete stop, just feet away from his destination, Isaac stands and stretches his bones. The thunderous pounding of Derek’s heavy hands echoes through his head. The fear comes back. His shoulders bunch, his eyes screw shut, and he awaits the inevitable collision.

But when a hand grabs his arm forcefully, he feels blunt nails opposed to claws.

He turns, startled, and isn’t surprised by Derek’s glowing red eyes. He’s angry, Isaac can smell it on him, but he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he brings his arms up, as if shielding him, and pulls Isaac to his chest. There’s a moment of silence and Isaac finds that he isn’t breathing. Derek’s heavy hand cups the back of his head, his fingers intertwining with Isaac’s curls, and he says,

“It’s okay.”

Releasing his breath and burying himself further into Derek’s chest, Isaac holds back the sob that’s risen in his throat. He knows the other can feel it, knows it’s useless to hide, but it’s what he’s always done.

“How did you know?” he finally grits out, his hands fisting into the front of Derek’s shirt.

“You reeked of it when you left.”

Pulling back, Isaac looks up into the other’s eyes, tilts his head. “But you weren’t—“

“I heard you.” Derek smirks, the very tips of his canines visible. “Did you really think you could get past me?”

“I…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Derek drops his arms, “I get it. You need this…time, for whatever reason. Just don’t make a habit out of it.”

“I won’t.”

“I can’t risk losing you, too. You’re too important.”

“To the pack.”

“To me.”

Isaac shudders as his chest constricts. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. And just as he opens his mouth, Derek’s there, nuzzling his face into the underside of his jaw, taking his scent in. Isaac stays quiet, his blood pumping just a bit faster than before. He feels heavy, tired. It’s what happens every time Derek marks him and makes him feel needed. He has yet to catch his alpha in a lie, and is starting to think it’s a physical incapability for the other to give him false information. They  _are_  a pack after all.

“You need sleep,” Derek mumbles against his skin. “You have class in the morning.”

But neither of them move. Isaac knows not to do something unless the other does it first, and when he feels the slight shift in Derek’s stance, he follows him mechanically.

“Now?” he asks when Derek’s mouth leaves his skin.

The alpha nods, dropping to his hands and letting out a snarl. His eyes burn red and he makes one swift motion with his neck that tells the younger to follow suits. Isaac does, trusting him inexplicably. And if they make two rounds through the woods, running until their throats are hoarse and their claws are bloodied, well Isaac won’t mention it. Because he doesn’t have to for Derek to know he’s thankful.


End file.
